Just Imagine: Multi-Fandom Imagines

Voices: Rogue Imagine

'All the voices in my head will be quiet when I'm-dead.' ~ Rumpelstiltskin, Once Upon a Time.
You sat on your bed in silence. Well somewhat silence. You told your parents to leave you alone, that you weren't feeling well. Clutching your pillow to your chest, you try to block them out, make the voices into white noise.
Your mutation causes you to hear the dead. Particularly the ones who weren't done living. They shouted at you to help them, avenge them, find a way to bring them back. Blah blah blah. It was the same thing with all of them.
It had taken everything in you to convince your parents to not take you to a doctor. You couldn't let anyone know you were a mutant, certainty not with your curse. Luckily-or unluckily, depending how you looked at it-your parents didn't believe these voices were real people. They thought it was some form of schizophrenia, or a psychic break down. You didn't feel the need to correct them otherwise, even if everything the voices said checked out.
"Honey, I've made food," your mom knocks on the door.
Laughter echoes through your mind, and you answer in a shaky voice, "No thank you mom."
/no thank you mom!/ a voice repeats.
/Just leave me alone/ you think.
/why? I'm dead. I've got nothing left./ the voice cackles.
/please, I haven't done anything to you!/ you beg.
/you can help me! Stop ignoring me!/ they spoke even louder, hurting your ears.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" You shout aloud. Realizing your mistake, you back up away from the door towards the window.
"Honey, it's okay, we can help!" Your mother tries to open the door. The door kept it from opening, but it slid a little further.
You slid the window open, jumping down onto the roof.
/you can run but you can't hide!/ the voice mocks. You don't really know where to go next, so you slide of the roof, running down the street.
Cars wiz past you, and once you get to the corner of the road, you pause, catching your breath.
/tell the police! Tell them who killed me!/ a new voice orders.
"They wouldn't believe me anyway!" You shout. You press your hand against the back of your head, as if to force the voices out.
"Are you alright?" A man asks, looking at you strangely.
"Just-leave me alone!" You run from the man, pushing past the busy street and people.
Someone shoves you, causing you to land on top of a girl with brown hair and a white streak. "Agh!" The girl shouts, falling beneath you.
You roll over, trying to get away, brushing the smallest bit of her exposed skin in the process. Your skin tingles where she touched it, but she yanks away almost instantly.
She gasps, looking at you in a whole knew way.
"Who ar' ya?" She asks, then grabs you with a gloved hand, dragging you away from the people.
"Leave me alone," you mutter, not making eye contact.
"Those voices- do ya' always 'ear them?" She spoke with a thick southern accent.
For the first time you look directly at her.
"How did you know? Did my-did my parents send you?!" You back up.
"Calm down. Ah'm not gonna 'urt ya. Ma' name's Rogue," Rogue tries for a smile, but you just look down.
"Y/n," you mumble. "How did you know about them?"
"Because Ah'm like you. A mutant," she says softly, taking a step back and pulling a glove off. Her skin is bare and light, shining as if it had never been exposed to light.
"A-a mutant?"
"Yeah. If ah were to touch ya right now, ah'd drain all of your energy, your memories," Rogue puts the glove back on. "Ah brushed your skin. Ah heard 'em."
"I'm not crazy. They're real people, I've checked," you say.
/yeah, checked alright. But it was too hard to walk to the police station and tell them who killed me?/
/I couldn't tell them! I'd have to say I was a mutant!/
/so I get to be unavenged so you can live a comfortable life?/
"At least I'm alive!" You shout, then cover your mouth.
"They're there right now, aren' they?" Rogue asks, and you nod. Deciding that she wasn't going to lock you away, you say,
"They're always there. I try to block them out, but some are more persistent than others," you ring your hands together nervously.
"Ah can help," Rogue offers.
"How? Throw me in an asylum? A little bit of shock therapy? I've heard it all," you shake your head.
"Nah. There's a man, called the professor. 'E helps with people like us. He 'as a Institute. Ah go there, ah have friends. Come with ma," she offers.
"People think I'm crazy! Other mutants have cool, helpful gifts. A boy in my school can climb any surface, stick to the ceiling. That helps now and again. Me? People think I'm crazy, hearing imaginary voices inside my head. What good does hearing the dead complain do?"
"Everyone 'as their gifts, and everyone can 'elp in someway," Rogue promises.
You consider this. You can't go home, not without being thrown into shock therapy or something equally as horrid. This professor guy might even be able to shut the voices off.
"Fine. How do you know he'll let me? Most people wouldn't believe I'm a mutant if I told them. They stick me off as crazy," you remember trying to tell your friend.
"'e'll believe ya. 'e has a gift too. 'e can help," Rogue extends a gloved hand, which you accept.
"Okay..."